Forbidden Fruit
by Morganofthefairies
Summary: .'Accolon had a way of breaking beyond Morgaine's barriers with the smallest gesture, a flash of white teeth or the brush of fingertips could turn her brain to pulp.' Forbidden fruit always tastes sweeter, does it not?


**Author's Note:** This is my first fic that has nothing to do with LOST, so please be kind. Mists of Avalon is one of my favourite books andI decided, upon searching through the short list of fics that there is entirely not enough Accolon/Morgaine, so I bring you this. Oh if _anyone_ can think of a better title i would certainly take it into consideration. Thanks to **Steamrolledharrypotter** aka Amy, and **The silent she wolf** aka Kate! You guys make my childish scribbles into coherent words:D

**Dislclaimer:** The only characters I own are Deirdre and Rhys, because _every _castle needs a serving girl/gardener relationship, right? All others belong to the wonderful Marion Zimmer Bradley. If I owned Accolon I wouldn't leave my room for a VERY long time ;)

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**Forbidden Fruit**

Morgaine sighed in frustration and sat up in her bed, cautious not to disturb Uriens and have him wake up. Just because he frequented her body didn't mean that he wasn't aging, and he does need his sleep no matter what he chooses to believe. Also, she didn't particularly want him to wake up. It wasn't that Morgaine disliked Uriens, he was a loving husband, and he treated her well, but a woman cannot force herself to love, nor can she force herself to enjoy what he calls 'making love'.

She slowly got out of bed and dressed, putting a robe on to stop the night chill from sinking in. _It will do no good, I am cold inside and out._ Her nights had gone very much the same for the past week. Waking up in the middle of the night, if actually falling asleep at all, wandering around aimlessly in the hopes of falling asleep from physical exhaustion, trying to avoid thinking of _him. _Oh yes, she knew why she can't rest these past days, but she wished she knew how to stop it.

Morgaine took one last glance at the form of her sleeping husband and closed the door quietly. Padding silently on the stone floor, she set off on another night of roving around the castle. In these past few nights Morgaine had learnt more than she had in the previous eleven months of living here. One thing she had learnt is that Deirdre, a serving girl, is very much in love with Rhys, the young man who tends the courtyard and the fields. Twice in the past week she had caught them together, kissing and smiling and _happy_. She didn't have the heart to tell them to get to bed, or interrupt, someone should at least be happy in this place. When Deirdre came in with the morning meal, trying to hide a yawn behind her hand, Morgaine would smile to herself. What she would give to be young and in love. _Well, I am not all that old, and what else could describe the utter torture I feel when he smiles at me and his eyes bore into my very soul and I mustn't smile back. What else could that terrible ache be if not love?_

Not that it matters now, Morgaine thought bitterly, Accolon is surely only being polite. He must still be angry about that night in Camelot almost a year ago. The last words he said to her on the night of his arrival still rang in her head, 'This is not done between us, lady.'

Morgaine shivered involuntarily, and drew her robe around her tighter. Accolon had said the words so fiercely, almost angrily. She hadn't expected him to care anymore; surely a handsome man such as himself could find a beautiful young lady. He was a king's heir, very capable in combat and arms, able to provide a small fortune as a dowry, almost painfully good-looking, in her eyes at least. Perhaps it was because he wears the serpents? People were leaving the old ways and the new religion was spreading. Perhaps they are all too pious to see anything but a man who believes in 'heathen rituals', as Guinevere had put it.

Morgaine realized that she had been scowling, and relaxed her features. Any mention of Guinevere usually left a slightly sour taste in her mouth. If it wasn't for her then she wouldn't be here, packed away in northern Wales with a husband old enough to be her father, that was certain. Morgaine rubbed her eyes, a little red and puffy from her lack of sleep, and hoisted herself onto the window ledge. She was petite, due to her faery blood, and could manage to sit on the ledge, legs dangling outside. _If I just jump then I can end this all, I can end it right now._ Morgaine bent forward and looked down, the drop must be almost forty feet, certainly enough for her to snap her neck. Wouldn't it make a pretty sight, the queen of Wales, lying dead in a pool of her own blood amongst the pink and white flowers of the courtyard, long dark hair fanned out and blank eyes forever staring. What did she have to live for now anyway? Living an empty life with Uriens until she becomes bitter and cruel? She was barred from Avalon, unable to find it in the mist, unable to feel the goddess. The one person who could perhaps make her happy was now her stepson, a family member, and it would be unseemly to treat him as anything more, or so the priests and their groveling pack of followers believe.

Yes, Uriens would grieve for a while, as he surely did for his previous four wives, and then perhaps he would go in search of another one. News of her death would not even reach Arthur and the others in time for them to mourn her at her burial, perhaps Guinevere wouldn't even allow them to mourn. Uwaine would be upset and confused, as most children his age are, but he would soon forget and embrace his new mother as he did Morgaine herself mere months ago. Accolon certainly wouldn't mourn, he'd find some beautiful young maiden with golden hair and blue eyes to dote upon him, and the priestess he had met that rainy day in Camelot with the soaking wet scarlet dress would be but a distant memory. The worst fact was that her own son, her own _flesh and blood_, wouldn't know her if she was standing right in front of him.

Morgaine wasn't sure when she had started crying, but her body shook with the built up pain she had tried so hard to suppress. Memories of her past flashed before her eyes; The day on the Tor when Lancelot had almost chosen her, Beltane and the coming of the king stag, leaving her Mordred in the care of her aunt Morgause, the terrible anguish she felt when she realized Arthur, her own brother, had made her with child. With tear filled eyes Morgaine looked up to the sky in silent prayer, _please let this pain end, I will do anything to let it end._

Nothing. Morgaine sighed and balanced on her haunches, contemplating whether or not to plummet to her death.

Then, the most amazing thing occurred. A shooting star flashed past, and for a moment the sky light up with an ethereal glow. Morgaine's tears stopped as she smiled up to the heavens. _The Goddess is still here, she hasn't left me._ She sat back down, and rested her head against the cool stone wall, panting slightly as she considered for a moment what could've occurred.

"Are you all right, Lady?" a soft voice whispered next to her ear, and she jumped in fright. A hand instantly grabbed around her waist and stopped her from falling off the ledge, pulling her out of the window sill. Morgaine was forcefully turned around and she looked up in shock as Accolon's face came into view.

"I'm sorry, Morgaine…Lady, I didn't mean…y-you almost fell," Accolon said, finishing the statement in a whisper.

Morgaine gasped. She was surprised she actually heard him through the loud pounding of her heart. "Accolon, I-I didn't realize you…were there."

"Oh Goddess, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you, Lady. I-I don't know what I would've done if you had..." and then he lunged forward and kissed her passionately, as if apologizing with his actions rather than his words. The hands on her face were surprisingly gentle for a man who had spent much of his life in battle or traveling, and when they caressed down the sensitive skin of her neck she shivered with an agonizing mix of pleasure and pain. _This is so wrong…he shouldn't be doing this; I certainly should not be doing this._ But Morgaine could do nothing but return the kiss, the feeling of his lips against hers was almost enough to bring tears again to her eyes. _No, I can't do this, if we are caught…_Morgaine found a surge of strength and pushed Accolon away.

"We cannot. I am married to your father now, Accolon," Morgan said, more breathless than she would care to admit. She tried to arrange her features into a harsh glare but found it increasingly hard when the man before her had quite literally kissed her senseless mere moments ago.

For a brief moment Accolon's face twisted into a mixture of sadness and anger before smoothing out into his usual calmness. "Did you wish it so? Did you mean for this all along then, Lady? To play me for a fool and marry my father instead." His harsh words were followed by a bitter laugh and his eyes were ablaze in silent challenge.

"You _know_ it is not so," Morgaine whispered fiercely. She met his eyes defiantly, reading a thousand things in them that she knew he would never say.

Accolon sighed and averted his gaze to the stone floor. "I understand, I am not even heir to my father's kingdom once he is gone. Why would the high king's sister, and a priestess of Avalon, _lower_ herself to a man such as me, the _second_ son?" he said in a patronizing tone, only infuriating Morgaine further.

She took a deep breath an exhaled slowly through her nose, trying to calm her temper. Normally Morgaine never had a problem keeping her emotions intact, but Accolon had a way of breaking beyond her barriers with the smallest gesture. A flash of white teeth or the brush of fingertips when passing the pitcher of wine could turn her brain to pulp, which is why Morgaine was currently in quite a predicament. It was hard to ignore Accolon in a room filled with dozens of people, how could she possibly be alone in his presence much longer without doing something she would later regret.

"You know very well that is not the case. I was tricked; I cannot undo what has occurred, so I must live with it as best I can." Morgaine's words were sharp and practical, and her hands were clenched tightly at her sides.

Accolon turned almost violently towards her and gripped her arms tightly, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief. "And you believe _this_ is living as best you can? Wandering the castle at night, during the day locking yourself away in your quarters for as long as possible; then only coming out so that my father can be assured that you are not ill or upset with him," he paused a moment to take a steadying breath and raise a hand to Morgaine's face, "Eventually someone other than I will take notice of the coldness of your eyes, the flush gone from your cheeks, the paleness of your lips." His warm fingers caressed slowly from her brow, down the hollow of her cheek before tracing gently across the swell of her bottom lip.

Morgaine turned her head away from his touch, trying to recover her common sense. "So you've come to scrutinize my appearance then, Accolon? I advise that you stop this intimate study of me; I am your _stepmother _nowThe last thing I need is servant's gossip."

Accolon grinned mischievously and Morgaine couldn't help but feel a pang of desire shoot through her. "Oh Morgaine, if only you knew just how intimately I wish to study you." He stepped forward and pushed a lock of hair away from her face, bending down and placing his mouth against her ear, his lips tickling her as he whispered words she had both wished and dreaded to hear. "And you know well I think you beautiful." Morgaine gasped as his lips brushed softly against her neck, catching a moan in her throat before it escaped. She hesitated a few moments before extracting herself from his hold, and made a show of rearranging her robe to hide the warm flush in her cheeks.

"Well it would do you well to keep those thoughts to yourself." Morgaine turned to walk away and stopped when a hand held her back.

Accolon pulled her closer to him but this time Morgaine fought to stand her ground. "Why do you avoid me Lady?" he asked with a weary smile.

Morgaine snatched her hand out of his warm one. She couldn't fall for his pleading eyes or his gentle touch, not again. "Because you so actively seek me out! Goodnight Accolon," she hissed and walked swiftly towards her chambers.

Accolon's voice, low and clear, echoed through the hall. "Just a warning, I am quite a patient man, Lady. Goodnight."

Morgaine ran the rest of the way down the corridor and slammed the heavy wooden door of her chambers behind her.

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**Please review, or there shall be no more Morgaine/Accolon flangst (the love child of fluff+angst) and that would be terrible.**


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